


Hot Chocolate

by Immortal_Magic_Freak



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2416214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immortal_Magic_Freak/pseuds/Immortal_Magic_Freak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles tells Isaac the memories that come back to him while making hot chocolate. This being the first time he's ever shared such a difficult time in his life with anyone - not even his dad - it is no wonder that Stiles starts crying. What Stiles doesn't now is the rest of the pack overhear his confession. Will Derek offer any kind words? Or will he just simply be there for Stiles?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think, I would love to know XD Please, please review XD 
> 
> ALSO Teen Wolf has stopped playing over here in England :'( so we only go up to season 2 – so the last thing I saw was that Jackson became a werewolf – meaning I don't know anything that's happened since D':

**Stiles **

I was standing in the kitchen in the Hale house, on a Saturday morning during the winter break. We all – Scott, Allison, Isaac, Danny, Jackson, Lydia, Erica, Boyd and me – helped Derek to rebuild it last summer, now here we are a year later. And what a year it had been. I knew that it would be an exhausting and interesting 365 days, but I never thought that on one of them I would start dating Derek. But here we were.

Derek and a few of the other wolves were outside training. The humans – apart from me – and the rest of the wolves were sitting in the living room. I, on the other hand, decided coffee sounded good right about now. Hence why I was in the kitchen. I wasn't a big coffee drinker. I could only drink it when it had a load of sugar in it. Apparently my mom was the same when she was alive. Mom. God I missed her! But that's expected, even after seven years. I closed my eyes, willing the stinging sensation in my eyes and throat to leave. I mean, I don't like people seeing me cry. I took a calming, shaky breath...but I didn't open my eyes. Not until someone placed a hand on my shoulder. When I felt the impact of an unknown weight on my shoulder, my eyes flew open and I span around fast, coming face to face with a slightly startled Isaac.

"Dude, seriously?" I sighed.

"Sorry." he replied, trying not to smile. "What you doing?"

"Making coffee. Want some?"

"Can I have hot chocolate instead?"

"Bro, are you being..."

" _Please_."

I _hated_ it when he begged. I swear, he should not be allowed to beg and pull those wounded puppy dog eyes on me. It wasn't fair. And he was _older_ than me! Sure, it was only by a few months, but _still older_! I sighed, grumbling about 'stupid werewolves, with their stupid expressions', which made Isaac snicker quietly behind me.

"If you want this damn hot chocolate, you better help." I told him, boiling the kettle.

Before I could even turn around again, most of what I needed was on the side next to me. Well that worked. Isaac pushed himself up so he could sit on the counter, next to all of the hot chocolate supplies he had gathered. He swayed from side to side slightly, swinging his legs back and forth, just like a little kid. I had finally persuaded Derek to let Isaac do these silly little kid things, reminding him that Isaac never got to be a proper kid. It worked like a charm. As Isaac sat there, I grabbed a few more things out of the fridge, placing them on the counter on the other side of me, so Isaac couldn't get to them. Isaac was the only one that actually drank hot chocolate, never really drinking it when he was younger. So, whenever he asked – even if I did put up a fight at first – I always made it for him. Thinking about it, I didn't really mind. It reminded me of how I used to make it with my mom, before she... I closed my eyes for a few moments, before I scooped a few spoonfuls of drinking chocolate into the large mug Isaac had collected, pouring a bit of milk in after and mixing it together. I didn't notice Isaac watching me, his head cocked to the side slightly, until I placed the milk back on the counter.

"What?" I asked.

"Something's wrong." Isaac explained, frowning. "You're sad about something."

Damn werewolves and their bloody sense of smell. I sighed again, smiling slightly. But that wasn't fooling the pup. I shrugged, trying to convey that it was nothing and that he shouldn't worry about it. Bu it didn't work.

"Come on." Isaac pleaded, with the wounded puppy eyes again. "Tell me, please."

"Ok, you should be using that look for good, not evil, man." I complained.

"If you just tell me, it'll go away."

"I would say I hate you, but you'd only call me a liar."

Isaac smirked, gesturing for me to go ahead and explain. We sat in silence while I searched for something to start off with. Sighing, I finally started.

"From the ages of three to eight, I would help my mom out in the kitchen." I explained quietly, the stinging in my eyes and throat coming back, as I stared at the mug in front of me. "Dad was never allowed, because we had to take him to the ER one time, so mom banned him from helping."

I could feel the tears coming. I stopped for a second to compose myself before continuing.

"When I was sick or during the winter break, my mom always made me hot chocolate. Sometimes she'd let me help her out." I continued, smiling slightly. "I liked helping her."

The smile on my face dropped, knowing what I was about to say next. It physically and emotionally hurt talking about my mom sometimes. That was how much I missed her.

"A couple of days, after my eighth birthday...my mom started getting sick." I told Isaac. "She said it was just a cold that was going around, so I made her some hot chocolate with my dad helping out. I thought...we thought she was going to get better...but she only got worse. Within two weeks, she had lost _a lot_ of weight and was _so_ pale. I was scared. I didn't tell her that. Or dad. Or...anyone for that matter. What I did do was help take care of her. From the moment I got home from school, I was always by her side, helping her with whatever. Especially when my dad wasn't home. He tried to get as much time off of work as he could...but he still had to work."

My throat felt like it was constricting. I cleared it, seeing if that would take some of the strain out of my voice. It didn't.

"For two years, she continued to get worse." I chocked. "Until, the day after my tenth birthday. It was a Saturday and dad had to work. I woke up and checked on my mom. She was still asleep. So I got dressed, made breakfast, you know...the usual. I went upstairs with a tray for my mom, hot chocolate included. I placed it on the bedside table, before I climbed on the bed to wake her and help her sit up. When I touched her arm she didn't move. She wouldn't wake up. She was even paler that the night before. So I freaked out. I grabbed the phone off of the table next to the tray, trying to find my dad's cell phone number in the contacts."

I rubbed at my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to clear my vision.

"I called my dad. He was calm until I started panicking and asking him why mom wouldn't wake up, why mom looked so pale, why mom wouldn't talk to me." I continued. "Dad tried to get me to calm down. Telling me that he'd be home in five minutes. He got off the phone and I sat there. Just staring at my mom from where I was kneeling beside her. I kept telling myself that she was sleeping, that she would be ok. Looking back of it now, I know it's stupid, but I lay down next to her and wrapped her arm around me...like she would do when I was upset, or scared, or ill...or just because she wanted to. And I started crying, because I felt so guilty, like I knew it was my fault, something I had done. That's how my dad and the EMTs found me. I didn't want them to take her away, but I couldn't say anything. Dad just knelt down so he was eye level with me, hugging me. He had me faced away from her, so I couldn't see what they were doing. It was the first time I had seen my dad cry. _Ever_. I realised that I would have to take care of me dad, so I put on a brave face and tried to reassure him."

Tears rolled slowly down my cheeks each time I blinked – at least I wasn't making stupid noises, though. The kettle stopped boiling, so I finished making Isaac's hot chocolate, adding water to the chocolate-y milk mix thing, before adding whipped cream and more chocolate. I passed it to him, before putting everything away where it needed to go. I ended up leaning against the counter, facing Isaac, coffee mug in hand. I took a drink from the warm, sweet liquid. But even having a drink didn't lessen the pain in my throat.

"I never really had a proper chance to be _really_ upset that she died. I had to be strong and look after my dad; otherwise he'd just fall apart. And I couldn't stand losing him too." I added, just as quietly, using the sleeve of my hoodie to wipe at my face and eyes, sniffling slightly. "He's really the _only blood-related_ family I have left."

I glanced up to see Isaac wide eyed and staring at me. Silence rang out after that, and Isaac just stared. I ended up emptying and placing my coffee mug onto the counter before anything happened. As soon as it was out of my hand, Isaac had pulled me in for a hug. Seriously, I didn't even hear or see him move! His grip on me was brutal, but I didn't care.

"Thanks, man." I told him, when he let me go. "I needed to tell somebody that."

"N-No one else knows?" Isaac asked, quietly.

I shook my head.

"Well, they do know." I heard someone – sounded like Jackson – mutter.

Looking over towards the door, I saw the rest of the pack standing there, all with the same expression. Shock, sadness, surprise. Derek glared at the brunette. One by one the rest of the pack left, Isaac leaving with his hot chocolate after patting my shoulder. Soon it was just me and Derek, left alone in the kitchen, as the others trailed outside. Derek walked over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and hugging me tight – but not to death like Isaac. As he hugged me, I felt the damn burst. I just cried, clinging to him – luckily, no embarrassing noises were made.

* * *

Derek and I were sitting on the couch when the waterworks ended. We just sat there. Derek still had his arms around me, one hand running through my hair as I laid my head on his shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Derek asked me, quietly.

"Never wanted it getting back to my dad." I replied, voice hoarse.

"Why didn't you want him to know?"

"Didn't want him to worry and get all dad-ish about it. He wasn't coping all too well as it was."

"Neither were you."

"I was used to hiding how I felt. Did it when I was looking after my mom, so it was easy pretending to my dad."

"You shouldn't have kept it to yourself."

"Says you."

"I had Laura to talk to."

I stayed quiet, not knowing how to reply to that. To be honest, I wanted to stop talking for a bit.

"Promise me something?" Derek asked.

I raised my head so I could look him in the eyes.

"Promise you won't hide anything like that from me?" he said.

"I promise." I told him, smiling slightly. "Only if you promise too."

Derek nodded, leaning forward to kiss me gently.

"You're an idiot. You know that, right?" Derek smirked.

"Thanks, Sourwolf." I sighed. "Thanks."

"But you're my lovable idiot."

"And you're my lovable Sourwolf."

**Author's Note:**

> Please review XD  
> Thanks XD


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